Dear little one, it’s your father again. You may have noticed your accommodation has less legroom than before. That’s because you will be born soon! I know. It’s amazing. Did you read that pamphlet on Ontology and Existentialism by Heidegger? No? It’s okay, I’ve put a copy in your cot.

If you are studying your exit route and think there’s a mistake in the diagram, I’m afraid there isn’t. (Your mother raised a similar concern.) Just push south and keep your head down. I imagine there will be a buzzer or a bell to let you know when to go. Remember, tidy up and hold on to anything you want to keep. You won’t be able to go back for it.

I have begun ‘bending down and picking up’ exercises. Throwing things onto the floor, especially food, will be a great game for you. The trick is to throw one thing, wait for me to bend down, and then throw something else so it hits me on the head. With a little practice you should be able keep this going for hours, or until I start weeping.

Do you like soft toys? I hope so because we have gathered quite a collection here. In fact, your belongings-to-be take up most of the house. But you can keep everything you want for as long as you want. Your things are your things and we will never get rid of them without your permission. We have also cornered the market in nappies and between you and me, it would be financially disastrous if you’re not incontinent. So, fill your boots or, to be more precise, your underwear.

You might be wondering if you have a name. Well, that is a BIG topic. At the moment we rotate through ‘bump’, ‘baby’, ‘little one’ and ‘that thing in there’, none of which would work well on your first day at school. We have a shortlist and I promise there are no anagrams of our names, no words used by an ancient druid, and no nouns selected at random from a dictionary – although I was drawn to Biscuit and Womble during the summer. The good news is, you will grow into whatever name we give you and because it is your name, we will all love it immediately.

I have put together a list of early reading for you, but you can throw it away if you like because I never want you to feel that reading is a chore, or that books aren’t fun. I won’t even mind if you don’t like reading. But, just in case:

• Peanuts by Charles Schulz – I have them all. Don’t worry if you drop them in the bath. I did. We can dry them on the radiator.
  
• The Complete Calvin & Hobbes by Bill Watterson – yes, you can have a toy tiger; no, not a real one.
  
• The Crab With The Golden Claws by Hergé – when you go to school ask your reception class teacher what opium is.
  
• The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell – this might be a stretch.

You can watch any film you like as long as we say you can, and listen to any music you want – especially if we say it’s awful. Music your parents don’t like is the best music to play loudly. Oh, and if you get into Gaming would you mind if I occasionally played along? I hear things have moved on since Mario Kart 64, and I have some catching up to do.

Anyway, aside from all this, the reason I’m writing is because I want to wish you a Merry Christmas. Christmas is a big deal out here. It is all about peace and goodwill and helping those who find it hard to help themselves, and the gluttonous commercial commoditisation of the act of giving. You will be spending Christmas with us because you are literally inside our family bubble (I’ll tell you all about this another time). Everyone should get a present at Christmas, even if it’s just a kind word or a few minutes of someone’s time. We are lucky; you are our present.

Merry Christmas, little one x

P.S. don’t worry if you didn’t have time to send a card. It’s fine.

Categories: Don't do the Maths!